Heretic
One Shou rose in the sky to the east, shining with opalescent fire. The first three of its moons would be soon to follow: the dark scourge that was Malik, the blue white of Hassh, and the muddy yellow-red-brown of Issik. But for now, Yaasa was alone while the rest of the inhabitants of Nashega, the fourth moon, slept. He stroked his trunk, the thick, brick-like fingers of his hand sending the dried mud flaking to the floor beneath him. He was not upset; the servants would come to clean it up. And it was dawn now, the ceremonial mud-coverings could come off and the Gods Above would not be offended. His master had departed the world of the living, and he had kept his vigil as was honorable. Despite how uncomfortable the dried mud felt on his skin, a small part of him was sad to see it go. A deep sense of longing began to fill his heart. He had not been able to talk to his master before the illness took him. He had been returning from a mission for the Sanctuary, and by the time he had reached the outer walls of Great Ka'ja, his master had already fallen into a deep coma. Now, he was buried in the Sanctuary tomb with the rest of his brothers, as Yaasa would one day be. The Sanctuary taught its wards not to mourn for those who join with the Gods Above, but learning and doing are two very different things, Yaasa had come to find out. Being told to celebrate and be happy for those who pass on was one thing, but to ignore the ache of loss was another. Yaasa turned from the balcony, and entered into his masters- no, his rooms. As was customary, he now took over his master chambers, and all of his belongings. Not that Tihua had much to his name, a small collection of books that were not standard Sanctuary-issue, and several small trinkets from his travels around Nashega. Everything else was generic. Tihua had not been interested in earthly possessions, there were more pressing concerns than what to buy, he had often said. Yaasa would miss his small rants, annoying though they were. In retrospect, they really didn't seem as trivial as they once had. Yaasa would give anything to hear them again, rather than the blaring silence he now sat in. As if on cue, a knock at the door sounded, followed by the gruff call of Magister Alox. "Breakfast is being served in the mess. Come now or go hungry." Yaasa could hear the old coot shuffle off. He wished the man's foul mood could be blamed on the early hour, but alas, he was just as ill-tempered at dawn as he was at dusk. Yaasa made his way to the large chamber that served as the Sanctuary's cafeteria. The ceiling was a construct of metal and glass that filled the room with plenty of sunlight during the day but allowed the Keepers to observe the stars at night. The walls were the same white stone as the rest of the Sanctuary, although some sections had murals painted upon them which was a unique quality only seen in this one room. Yaasa joined the queue and received his portion of today’s meal, which consisted of steam oak bark, a small salad of greens, and a large apple. He found a free spot along one of the large benches where Keepers communed together and began to tuck into his breakfast. The Keeper to his left was just finishing her meal and got up to leave, but it didn't take long for another to take her spot. "Yaasa," Omali threw an arm around Yaasa once he was fully seated, "I heard about your master, are you doing okay?" He laid his trunk on Yaasa's hand comfortingly. Yaasa smiled, "It will be hard to adjust, but I know I will be fine with friends like you around." Yaasa touched his friends' trunk with his own, before using it to scoop a portion of the salad into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully before adding, "When did you arrive back from the Western territories?" "Just as dawn was breaking. I'm sorry I missed the entombment ceremony, but the desert sands made travelling more difficult for the carts. Their wheels get caught in all the sand. Oh, Yaasa, do not get me started on the sand. It's horrible, it gets into everything. Everything!" Yaasa smiled again, chewing through the leaves. He and Omali had been brought to the Sanctuary around the same time and had been in the same classes. Now that they were fully fledged Keepers, they didn't get to see each other has often as they would like, but they always picked up their friendship from when it had last been left. "Let's hope neither of our next assignments are in the West then." "Well, the West isn't all bad. I actually brought something back for you. I should be in my quarters later this evening after the Communion, why don't you stop by and I'll give it to you?" They agreed to meet and finished off their meals. Omali stole Yaasa's apple, but he didn't mine. Apples were one of Yaasa's least favorite fruits, but they were the cheapest fruit available in Great Ka'ja, so the Sanctuary often had them in meals. Yaasa wasn't that hungry in truth, so he gladly gave the fruit to his friend who had not have much besides cactus in the past seven months he'd been deployed. Yaasa and Omali parted ways for now, and Yaasa headed toward the Sanctuary’s archives. Magister Améa was the Higharchon, which made her the overseer of the archives as well as a member of the Sanctuary’s High Council. Yaasa had come to see about donating his master’s private collection to the archives. As much as he did miss his master, he didn’t think keeping every single item he had possessed would be healthy or helpful. They would be constant reminders of the loss of his master, and Yaasa wouldn’t have much free time to read. He would be redeployed within the week, and his life would be hectic once he reached his destination, wherever on Nashega that would be. “Ah, Keeper Yaasa,” Améa greeted him, “It has been many Season since I last saw you.” Yassa gave her a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I wish my purpose for this long overdue visit was not so grim, then, Higharchon.” He bowed and told her his reason for coming to the archives. In truth, he had never really been interested in the archives. He saw the need and use for books, however he found that every time he cracked one of the dusty tomes open or pulled a musty scroll apart, he quickly lost interest in the contents. He much rather listen to something than read it. “We will gladly accept Magister Tihua’s books into the archive,” Améa reached out her trunk Yaasa, who twined his own with it. The held them for several seconds before letting them fall back to their resting positions, “Your master was a good Keeper, and better person.” “Thank you,” Yaasa dipped his head, “I will miss him dearly.” Améa did not respond to that, grief was not a proper emotion for a Keeper, they were supposed to be more logical and impartial. Instead, she said, “I will send one of my Apprentices to collect the books tonight.” Yaasa nodded his agreement and left. He had seen the slight look of disappointment in the Higharchon’s eyes. As a member of the High Council she would be a strict adherent to the Sanctuary’s codes, so Yaasa couldn’t blame her, but her reproach still stung all the same. Two - Before Category:Nashega Trilogy